Lang fully immersed himself within the halo of power that seemed to emanate from Stahl. He revelled in the invisible ambiance, the touch and intimacy between himself and the Sturmbannführer fuelling the joy he obviously felt.
‘Forgive me, Herr Sturmbannführer Stahl, but what’s happened to you?’ Ziegler asked.
Stahl’s icy gaze zeroed in on Ziegler who shivered with revulsion as the grotesque eyes settled upon him. But somewhat unexpectedly, a confused frown formed on the SS officer’s brow. ‘Stahl..?’
His reactions and manner were like that of someone who had a black veil removed from their face. He looked at his hands; his frown growing deeper as he slowly flexed his fingers and rubbed the tips together.
‘Shall I alert Doctor Blomberg?’
Stahl returned his gaze back to Ziegler and shook his head. ‘Now I remember!’
He suddenly grabbed Ziegler’s hand. The Nazi’s skin was hot and clammy, feverish even. Ziegler attempted to pull away, but after a short time he started to relax, and instead, like Lang, he started to feed off the manifest energy that emanated from Stahl. It pumped and coursed through his veins, mixing with his blood to root into every bone in his body. It also cast off the hunched aspect that had for so long ruled Ziegler the prisoner. That Ziegler was now dead. He was now Ziegler the Gauleiter. Ziegler the Nazi.
Stahl sensed the change in the former prisoner and smiled. ‘I, like you, have changed,’ he said. ‘My form and appearance may have altered since I escaped, but this new vessel certainly has its advantages, as does its drives and doctrines. It confirms that I was right to reach out to your kind.’
‘What has happened?’ Ziegler breathlessly asked like an eager pupil anxious to learn from its master.
‘Isn’t it obvious? We have undergone a majestic metamorphosis! The impure racial aspects which contaminated and poisoned the whole – all what suffocated and imprisoned my greatness – have been cleansed away.’
Ziegler remained silent, as if unsure what to say or do to this Nazi monstrosity. The prisoner motioned to pull away, but Stahl’s grip remained strong, the heat growing stronger, the pain it inflicted more damaging. To Ziegler, the heat was fusing and melting their flesh together to create a bizarre blood pact between them.
‘You’re right to fear me, but don’t let your fear blind you to what is to come.’ Stahl pulled Ziegler closer. ‘You do trust me?’
The bright blue eyes bored right into Zeigler’s soul.
‘Of course,’ he breathlessly cried.
‘But can I trust you?’ Stahl then asked pointedly.
Ziegler felt a spark of fear rise up his spine as he heard those words. Stahl smiled again to reassure the Nazi as he witnessed the fear in his companion.
‘Let me ask you this: why do we believe in Germany and the Führer?’ Stahl said.
The words instantly struck a nerve and took Ziegler back to his Party days. His shoulders stiffened and his chest swelled as he suddenly stood to attention before the Sturmbannführer. He barked back his response like an eager recruit. ‘Because we believe in God, we believe in Germany which He created in His world and in the Überführer, whom He has sent us!’
‘Who do we serve?’
‘I swear to thee Adolf Hitler loyalty and bravery. I swear to thee and the superiors thou shalt appoint obedience unto death. So help me God!’
‘It is I who feels the will of the Überführer within,’ Stahl stated. ‘It is I, who you will serve. It is I, who you will obey.’
Now it was the turn of Ziegler to smile when he realised that he was truly back within the Party. ‘You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this moment,’ Ziegler gasped. ‘I never lost hope that I would serve the swastika once again. It is my joy of joys!’
‘My burdens are many, my comrade,’ Stahl said. ‘That is why you must help me. Before I became one with the swastika, I slumbered in this wilderness, locked in the darkness and smothered within the unending silence. I was an exile, shunned by my own kind because of my munificence! Their small minds refused to comprehend the beauty of my creations. They said they were crimes! I say they were progress! Eventually, their jealously drove me from my home into the vastness of space. I slumbered with my creations until our vessel fell from the sky onto this world. But as you can see my patience eventually paid off. I sensed your radio transmissions and signals decades ago. I listened attentively to your words, to all your triumphs and to your power, and I knew at that moment that I had found kindred spirits. But given your biological requirements, I knew that you would never attempt an expedition to my place of exile as it was, and so with a slight of hand, I projected what you wanted to see out here. But it wasn’t a trick: it was vision of what will happen here on this planet once our plans come to fruition.
‘We are to forge something special on this small world, Ziegler. Nothing less than a new Reich will be raised from these shores. It will be a new Fatherland!’ Stahl exclaimed. ‘Imagine this world reshaped by us, its very geography shaped by National Socialism. Pure Nazi crops will prosper and grow across these alien steppes, just as your forefathers spread the Nazi seed across the barbaric East. And these fields will be tended by pure, unadulterated Nazi colonists, all free of the corruption and poison and decadence of our brothers back home. Here on Vanaheim we will return to the true Nazi path, a path to greatness, a path to purity. Out here amongst the stars, the Reich will be renewed under a new swastika banner held by a new Überführer.’
Stahl smiled as Lang then took up the blasphemous, from a Nazi point of view, sermon.
‘An Überführer we can touch. An Überführer we can feel,’ Lang gasped. ‘Even you have seen the power he possesses. He gave me the power to exterminate the untermenshen who filled this vessel! Can you not see that his power overwhelms even that of the little Corporal whose earthly empire merely covered Europe? This new Reich of iron and blood will cover the entire universe!’ he shouted as he performed a Nazi salute over and over again.
Stahl cupped Lang’s expectant face, kissing the priest full on the lips.
At first, Lang’s eyes remained closed, but after a short time they snapped open. They were full of pain. They were full of confusion. Lang then stifled a scream as he tried to pull away from the embrace, his hands desperately pawing at his master’s, but Stahl’s hands and lips remained locked in place. Eventually Stahl released Lang from his embrace. The Nazi priest collapsed lifelessly at the feet of Zeigler, while blue fumes smoked from Stahl’s smiling lips.
Ziegler knelt down to examine Lang’s body. The blue stain from the Zyklon-B poison had spread from his lips and blotted his entire face. It was obvious that the immunity that had been conveyed upon Lang to wipe out the crew had been painfully and fatally removed by this new version of Stahl.
‘The little priest had served his purpose,’ Stahl coldly said as he turned towards his new acolyte. ‘I hope you’re not squeamish about such matters.’
‘Of course not! Have no fear that I have the stomach for what is needed to be done,’ Zeigler said with a note of steel.
‘Spoken like a good Nazi!’ smiled Stahl. ‘Come, we have much work to do.’
Ziegler now knelt before Stahl, and at that moment, the last vestiges of the friendship he had developed with Konrad disappeared.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT